


Skirting Katabasis

by hailqiqi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (how is that not a tag already wtf fandom get over here we need to talk), (yes multiple), Allergies, Angry Make-Ups, Breaking and Entering, Canon Compliant, Dancing, Dramatic Teenage Arguments, Everybody gets Arrested! Yay, F/M, Group Hugs, Hardcore Jigsaw Puzzling, Healing and Catharsis, Heists, Honeypotting, Immigration issues, Jealous Lance (Voltron), Jealous pidge, Keith The Explosion Guy, Keith and Pidge - Seduction Experts Extraordinaire, Kolivan was Expecting It, Lance is an ass, Mission Impossible dun-dun-duh-duh, Misunderstandings, Pidge in a Dress, Pidge | Katie Holt-centric, Post-Naxzela Fall-Out, Post-Season/Series 04, Quality Jail Bonding, Realizations, Shovel talks, Sneaking Out, Space Caterpillars - Freeform, Strange Alien Cultures, Tramping Through the Woods, Treasure Hunting, Underage Drinking, Xenophobia, allura is so done, crazy cat lady, deus ex convenient camera shots, diplomancy, hangovers, implied sex, lance is so done, paladin bonds, shiro is so done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-04-28 08:52:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14445744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailqiqi/pseuds/hailqiqi
Summary: Pidge, Resident Tech Expert and Detective Extraordinaire, can do anything.Including help Keith steal The Obol - the ship Shiro flew for the Kerberos mission - and put it back together. Rocket science isn't all that hard, after all.Keeping a secret from five people you're psychically linked to is a little harder, but the project goes smoothly enough...at least until they discover that they're missing several key pieces, and - naturally - the type of people who buy odd spaceship bits are the type of people who make you want to jump out an airlock.Add in a blossoming romance with Lance to the mix, and Pidge might have to start taking juggling lessons.----A story of catharsis, bonds, misunderstandings and shenanigans.





	1. She Forgot to Expect the Important Things

* * *

 

 

So! This is my piece for the [Pidge Big Bang!](https://pidgebigbang.tumblr.com/) I'm really excited to be able to finally share this story.

Mad love goes to [ibupony](https://ibupony.tumblr.com), my hard-working artist for this Bang, and [Reem](https://sp4c3-0ddity.tumblr.com), my long-suffering beta!

\----

Special Credits:

Shout outs to [mistyhollowdrummer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyhollowdrummer/pseuds/mistyhollowdrummer), [Morie-mordant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morie_mordant), [potato-person](potato-person.tumblr.com) and [radiantcerulean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiantcerulean/pseuds/radiantcerulean) for their encouragement!

The concept for this fic was _heavily_ inspired by [A Study in Relevancy](http://some-cookie-crumbz.tumblr.com/post/158291008524/a-study-in-relevancy) by [some-cookie-crumbz](https://some-cookie-crumbz.tumblr.com). (It's a fantastic Kidge one-shot. Go read it.)

The implementation of the paladin bonds was inspired by the epic gen fic [Truce](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10189274/chapters/22627493) by [Kyanve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyanve/pseuds/kyanve). (Go read this too. It's incredible.)

Certain phrases shamelessly stolen from [Reem's vast collection of gen and plance works](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104), which are well worth paying homage to.

Now, without further ado!

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sinking into the sheets had quickly become Pidge's favourite part about going to bed. The sheets on the castle were ridiculously soft and the duvets were plush and fluffy, like how you always imagine clouds should feel if they were warm and not composed of ice water. Altean duvets were warm from the instant they touched your skin, making cocooning yourself in them feel like an act of extravagant luxury. (Pidge hadn't figured out the why yet, but it was on her list. She suspected they could share something in common with the thermoregulators in their body suits.)

The worst thing about going to bed was knowing that she'd have to wake up early (which was, really, the only reason she bothered going to bed at a decent hour at all) and knowing that she could be summoned by the alarm at any time. The second worst thing was the knowledge that nightmares were all-too-common and it was often all-too-hard to fall asleep in the first place, but she was exhausted from the final performance of The Voltron Show earlier and well... She had the others for nightmares. That was one of the best things about being part of Voltron — you never had to be alone if you didn't want to be.

Yawning, Pidge rolled herself up in the duvet and nudged Green sleepily with her mind to say goodnight, receiving a small nudge of amused fondness in reply. She could tell that Shiro, Allura, Lance and Hunk were all safely ensconced in their own beds, and they were passing through an allied quadrant where the chances of attack were low. It was a good night for sleeping.

...Or, it was meant to be.

Pidge cracked one eye open and glared at the wall, as if the force of her glare could make the blue flashing stop. When it didn't, she let out a sigh that was more of a groan and wriggled around under the covers, trying to keep as much of herself in the warmth as possible while she stuck a bare arm out and retrieved her tablet. Who the quiznak would be ringing her at this hour?

"Pidge! Uh... Are you there? It's too dark to see anything."

"Hang on..." Pidge flipped over onto her stomach, blanket still over her head, and placed the tablet carefully on the pillow before reaching up to flip her fairy lights on. "Better?"

"All I can see is your nose..."

He was right. The little square showing her own image looked not unlike the Emperor from Star Wars, if the Emperor had been young and bathed in a warm yellow glow rather than sickly blue.

"Keith, I was almost asleep. I really don't care right now," Pidge said, yawning for emphasis. "What's up? And if you're going to tease me about The Voltron Show again..."

"No, no!" Keith said hurriedly, a smile tugging at his lips. "The big finale was pretty good though. We watched it at Headquarters."

Pidge smiled in reply. "So?"

"I actually had something else I wanted to ask you about..." Keith glanced left and right before continuing. "Your dad helped design _The Obol_ , right?"

" _The Obol_?" Pidge repeated, curiosity piqued. "The ship they flew on the Kerberos Mission?"

Keith nodded. "Yeah. Your dad helped design it, right?"

"Why are you asking me about _The Obol_?"

"Pidge!" Keith touched a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes momentarily. "Did your dad help to design it?"

Pidge frowned. "Of course he did, he was the engineer for the mission. He had to know how it went together."

"Okay, so..." He took a deep breath. "Are _you_ familiar with how it goes together?"

"Kind of, but... Keith, why are you asking me all this?"

"I was getting to that."

"Can you get to that quicker? I'm meant to be asleep right now," she griped, pushing her curiosity aside in favour of annoyance. "Why didn't you wait until morning to call, anyway?"

"Don't you love saying 'there are no mornings in space'?"

Pidge snorted and rested her head on the pillow next to the tablet. "Get to the point, man." She yawned. "I can't stay awake much longer."

"Okay, so... I was on a mission with the Blades to a decommissioned base near Olkarion. We were checking to see what was salvageable, and in one of the rooms they had _The Obol_ in pieces."

"Mmm..." Pidge replied sleepily. "That sounds... Wait, what?"

Okay. She was officially awake now.

"They had _The Obol_ , in pieces," Keith repeated patiently. "Like they'd completely taken it apart and it was in a thousand bits, but it was definitely _The Obol_."

"Wow," she breathed. She wasn't quite sure how to feel. _The Obol_ had embodied all of her father's and brother's hopes and dreams, and a good deal of her own, and she'd assumed it lost forever when the crew was captured. She hadn't even thought to look for it.

"So... Do you think you could put it back together?" Pidge tilted the tablet towards her and looked at him hard. His expression was hesitant, but his eyes were soft...almost pleading.

She smirked. "Who do you think I am, Keith? Me and Hunk can rebuild it, no problem."

"No Hunk," he said firmly. "I want to keep this between us."

"What? Why?"

"It..." He trailed off, looking everywhere but at the camera while he gathered his thoughts. "I want to surprise Shiro with it, and the less people that know about it the better."

"Oh." Pidge frowned. "Would Shiro _like_ that surprise? He might not have the best memories of the ship he was flying when, you know..."

"He's fine when he talks about it," Keith said quickly. "Or... At least he was, when he _talked_ about it. He used to say how much it ended up feeling like home. But he doesn't really talk about it anymore..." He trailed off, eyes downcast as his lips turned down in a frown.

Pidge sighed. "He doesn't talk about much anymore."

"I know. That's why I wanted to surprise him."

"Okay..." She nodded, biting her lip. "It'd be way easier with Hunk on board, but I should be able to do it. Are you sure we can't tell Hunk? I don't think he'd tell."

"Positive. More people keeping secrets would be more obvious in the bond. Plus you're always thinking about one project or another, so it would be easy for Shiro to overlook."

Huh. Well, that made sense. Keith always had been more sensitive to that stuff than Pidge.

Trying to put _The Obol_ back together by herself would be no easy feat, but she'd heard her dad describe the ship and its design a million times. With all the technology at her disposal she should be able to manage it. Or at least, get close enough that she'd only need Hunk's help for a short amount of time, thus minimising the chances of exposure. And if it might help bridge the weird distance that had grown between Shiro and the rest of the team, then the hard work would definitely be worth it.

"Okay then. I'm in."

 

#

 

The base where Keith had found _The Obol_ was on a planetoid only half a varga away from Olkarion (by lion). With the conclusion of _The Voltron Show_ there were a large number of planets and other civilisations looking to join the coalition, and so a preliminary 'Coalition Summit' of sorts had been called on Olkarion. Since both Team Voltron and the Blade of Marmora would be present, it was the perfect opportunity for The Heist, as Pidge had taken to calling it.

Voltron and the Blades were the hosts, so they had to be there to set up. The second day was primarily taken up by arrivals, with the last one scheduled for early afternoon. Discussions weren't due to start until the next morning. That meant Day One could be spent catching up with friends and family, leaving them free to sneak off on Day Two in the late afternoon. As long as they were back by morning they'd be fine, and Pidge figured that they had a fifteen-hour block of time at the _minimum_.

The hardest part would be getting away from the rest of the team, but with Shiro's odd distance Keith wasn't too worried about giving Shiro the slip and he wasn't expecting anybody else to go looking for him. It wasn't so easy for Pidge, but she'd managed to set Matt up with Lance and Hunk on a 'boys' game night', and she knew that would definitely keep them occupied long enough for her to sneak out (and probably get back, too, but they would likely just end up crashing in Lance's room so they wouldn't even know she'd gone).

That was how Pidge found herself in Green's hangar late that afternoon, going over her checklist for the mission while waiting for Keith to show up. She'd managed to find a disused hangar big enough for her lion in a far-off corner of the castle and set that up for The Great Puzzling (what she'd nicknamed the 'rebuild The Obol project' in her notes), and the bay doors for the hangar had been left open for their return. She was in her armour and had her bayard, just in case the Blade had missed anything during their previous exploration of the base. She'd managed to procure a bunch of the sacks Keith had taken into the weblum to collect the scaultrite (and had a lot of fun with the expansion mechanism), and she had set up a private frequency for them to communicate on during the mission.

Now all she needed was for Keith to turn up, but he was late.

She tapped her fingers against her gauntlet impatiently, tossing up the pros and cons of sending him a message. If he was having trouble getting away from the others, a message might look suspicious.

"Then again, is he the type to forget the time? We never really scheduled our hang outs before," she mused out loud, earning an amused rumble from Green. "He was never late to training, at least..."

The sound of the door opening echoed in the hangar.

"Dude! I've been here for—"

"...Pidge?" Lance stood near the entrance, staring at her with surprise. "Why are you wearing your armour? You're going somewhere?"

Pidge stared back with wide eyes. "Um... I was going to... Uh..." She glanced around the hangar desperately, looking for some quick inspiration. "I got invited by Rynar to check out a city on the other side of the planet, so I was just about to head out!"

"You did?" His shoulders slumped. Pidge thought he looked disappointed, but why would he look disappointed? "How long are you going to be gone for?"

"Um, I'm not sure," she replied, biting her lip. "I probably won't be back until pretty late. She wanted to show me some stuff that's only really useful at night."

"Oh," he answered, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. "I guess I'll catch you some other time then."

"Yeah, okay." Pidge hated herself for lying to him. Lance was so trusting — he was always willing to take whatever she said at face value, simply because 'we're teammates, Pidge. Why would you lie to me?' But Keith was adamant that they keep the project between the two of them to minimise exposure, so she had to lie.

Lance shrugged and turned to leave. Pidge watched him go with a frown. Shouldn't he be playing video games right now?

"What did you want, anyway?"

"Oh!" Lance stopped short and spun back around, hand still at his neck and...was that a blush on his cheeks? Why would he be blushing? "I was just gonna ask if you wanted to go and watch the sunset."

"The sunset?" Pidge's mind raced to a halt and her mouth dropped open. "Uh..."

"Well, we were talking about them before, remember? And they're really pretty here, and I know a good spot, and just...thought maybe you'd like to see it... I dunno." He looked away and shrugged, but not quickly enough to hide the deep burgundy of his cheeks.

Pidge's own cheeks were burning, but before she could formulate a reply the hangar doors opened again. Keith walked in and she jumped, trying to act casual. Lance straightened up too.

Keith stopped just inside the doors and looked between her and Lance curiously. "Uh... Am I interrupting something?"

"No! No, no, nothing at all," Pidge replied a little too quickly, hoping Keith wouldn't pick up on how flustered she was. "Uh... Are you ready to go?"

"What the cheese?" Lance's eyes widened. "Rynar invited Keith?"

"Yeah? Why are you so surprised?" Keith raised an eyebrow at him, and Pidge silently thanked Kolivan for Keith's ninja spy training. He was a much better liar than she was.

"You don't even like science! You're worse with tech than I am!" His eyes narrowed as he looked from Keith to Pidge. "Is that why you set up the gaming night thing? So you two could sneak out?"

Pidge froze.

"Lance. Are you crazy?" Keith rapped Lance on the forehead with the back of his knuckles, taking his attention off Pidge and giving her room to breathe. "Rynar invited Pidge, Pidge asked if I wanted to come as a Blade representative. That's _all_."

"Oh." Lance visibly deflated, and Pidge breathed a mental sigh of relief. Somewhere at the back of her mind, Green was laughing at her. Stupid cat. "Uh, right."

Keith looked to Pidge. "We need to go."

Pidge started. "Yeah! Okay, let's go." Green lowered her head, opening her jaw to admit them, but Pidge hesitated and glanced back at Lance. "Uh, I'll see you later? Make sure you beat Matt for me!"

"Yeah, see ya." Lance waved as he left the hangar, shoulders slumped.

The doors slid shut behind him and Pidge turned to start up the ramp to where Keith was waiting for her, one eyebrow raised. "What?"

Keith shook his head. "Nothing. Let's go."

Green was still laughing at her.

 

#

 

Keith stood just behind Pidge's seat as they went up, but as soon as they broke atmo he started wandering around the cockpit, surreptitiously running his hands over the consoles as he 'checked their course'.

Pidge fought back a smile as she watched him, but there was something bittersweet in it. He still looked _wrong_ in that Blade uniform.

"Do you miss it?"

Keith glanced over at her question, a rueful smile on his face. He looked back at the console before nodding. "I miss the team. I miss Red."

"We miss you too. It's not the same with you gone." To be honest, she was never quite sure _what_ was different, but there was something missing now. "I miss you keeping me company when I'm working."

"I didn't really do that a lot," he replied, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

She shrugged. "Yeah, but I always appreciated it when you did. Sometimes it's nice to have someone there that I don't have to talk to, y'know?"

Keith nodded and looked away, shoulders slightly hunched. Pidge turned her attention back to the viewscreen and Keith began looking around the cockpit again, touching his fingers to the curves of the walls. Not for the first time, Pidge was glad that she hadn't had to change lions. Green was a comforting presence in her mind, a strong support and a guiding hand — she couldn't imagine how lost she'd be out here without her.

Green rumbled in agreement around them, and Pidge smiled softly. Yeah, she wouldn't give up Green for the world.

A sudden thought struck her, and she glanced back over at Keith. "Do you miss Black?"

"Black?" he repeated, taken aback. "No, not really. We didn't have the same connection."

Pidge nodded. "That makes sense. Lance misses Blue, and he says Red misses you."

"Yeah, whenever I come back to the castle..." Keith replied, tapping a finger to his temple with a smile. A moment later his smile turned devious, his eyes twinkling as he asked: "So... What was _that_? With you and Lance?"

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him. "What was what with me and Lance?"

Keith snorted. "I interrupted a Moment."

"You didn't interrupt anything."

"Sure," he answered, shrugging. "Why was he there, then? What did he want to talk to you about?"

"Uh..." Pidge examined the flight path she was following, carefully avoiding his gaze as she fought to keep the blush from her cheeks. "He asked me if I wanted to go and watch the sunset."

"...Like on a date?"

"No!" she replied, a little too quickly. "He didn't say it was a date. Uh. He just asked if I wanted to go. But obviously I couldn't, because we're going to that base."

"But he had a games night, right? He invited me to join earlier."

"He did? I didn't know that." Pidge was genuinely surprised. Keith had never been much of a gamer, and Lance had never been one for Keith's company. Then again, they did get on a lot better now than they had at the beginning. She suspected they had the potential to be great friends if Lance would only give it a chance.

"Why _would_ you know that?" Keith turned and leant back against the console, arms crossed over his chest.

Pidge shrugged and looked away.

"Is there something going on between you two?" Pidge shook her head and glanced back at him. Keith tilted his head to the side, examining her. "Do you still like him?"

"Huh? I never liked him. Not like that."

Keith deadpanned. "Paladin bond, Pidge. It was obvious. You've liked him for ages." He paused before continuing, tone suddenly much softer. "Did you really not notice?"

"I..." Pidge trailed off, eyes narrowed in thought. Lance was a good friend, but they were friends and that was it. He was too flirty, too goofy, too extra, too _tall_ for her to ever think of as anything more than a friend. Besides, all of her extra energy was taken up with looking for Matt and her dad. She didn't have time for distractions. "What makes you think I like him?"

"Do you want a list?" Keith replied, before raising a hand and ticking each point off on his fingers. "You let him use your stuff. You give him the softest smiles. You blush around him. When you guys make plans you feel happy and excited. People getting in your personal space puts you on edge, but when Lance does it you feel warm. And then you always get jealous when he flirts with other girls."

Pidge blinked. "I don't get jealous! It's just annoying."

Keith sighed. "That's jealousy, Pidge. Paladin bond, remember?"

"I never get anything like that from you," Pidge grumbled.

"Because I know how to keep my emotions to myself. You leak them everywhere," he responded. "We all know that you like him. I think the only person who doesn't know is Lance." He frowned. "And you, apparently."

"Oh, quiznak," said Pidge, burying her face in her hands and letting Green fly herself for a moment. Did she like Lance? She thought back over all the time they'd spent together with a critical eye. Lance was... He was a jerk, but he could be sweet when he wanted to. He always seemed to go the extra mile to connect with her, and she'd always appreciated that about him — even when she couldn't show it.

But did that mean she _liked_ him? How was she supposed to figure that out? Green rumbled sympathetically beneath her feet, helpfully supplying a montage of images — Lance dressed in the Blade of Marmora uniform, Lance leaving the team instead of Keith, Lance's familiar presence in her mind becoming a small, easily overlooked breath like Keith's had.

The stab of pain she felt at the idea told her all she needed to know.

"Oh," she said as realisation hit her. "Oh. I, uh, I guess I do like him." Keith chortled, and Pidge's surprise quickly turned into annoyance. "Why are you laughing? I'm not supposed to like Lance! Keith! This isn't a good thing!"

Keith just laughed harder, and soon he was doubled over and wheezing from the exertion. Pidge glared at him, then turned away to look out the viewscreen. Screw him. If he was going to be like that, she didn't need to talk to him about it. In fact, she didn't want to talk to anyone about it, because she didn't need to like Lance at all, and the more she acknowledged it the more it felt real, so talking was a bad idea.

She couldn't like Lance. No way.

"I'm sorry," Keith finally spoke, wiping at his eyes as he straightened up. "You really didn't know, huh?"

"No," she answered quietly. "I didn't... Ugh. It's just a crush, Keith. It's not important in the long run."

"If you say so," he replied with a shrug. "But if he's asking you to go and watch the sunset, then maybe he likes you too?"

She slid her gaze to him. "Does he?" _Did she even want him to?_ When he looked confused, she tapped her head twice. "You're better at reading the bond than me."

"Ah," Keith answered. "I don't know. I'm not really in the bond now, but his feelings towards you were always pretty positive?"

"He likes Allura." Pidge's heart sank. Thinking about Lance's crush on Allura had always made her feel bad; now that she could put a name to _why_ , it made her feel even worse. The plus side was that _that_ made her annoyed, which was a much better feeling than 'mildly heartbroken'.

"I'm...actually not sure about that? At first, yeah, I guess, but then his feelings towards Allura kinda...stopped being consistent. The whole thing didn't make sense." Keith shrugged again. "But you guys were always pretty close, and Matt said you spend a whole lot of time together... And even _I_ could feel how disappointed he was when you turned him down in the hangar."

Pidge shifted in her seat. "Honestly, Keith, I don't know? He's been acting really...clingy lately."

Keith raised an eyebrow. "Clingy? Isn't that just Lance?"

Pidge laughed at that, and Keith offered her a small smile. "No, he's being more clingy than normal. Sometimes I feel like he's following me around the castle. It started after I found Matt, actually." Her eyes widened at the realisation, and she paused to think about it. "He was kind of sulking the whole time I was showing Matt around the castle, and I thought it was because Matt hit on Allura when he first met her, —" Keith let out a bark of laughter "— but then..."

She trailed off, frowning. The only person who knew the whole story was Lance, and she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to talk to anybody else about it. It wasn't a fun memory to relive.

"Then what?" Keith prompted, his eyes gentle.

Green rumbled sympathetically, and Pidge took a deep breath. "Well, after Matt left I kind of...broke down?" Keith's eyes widened and Pidge hurried to continue. "Not like, a nervous breakdown or anything! And it wasn't because Matt left. It was just... When I found Matt he was on a top secret mission, and the Rebellion had set up a fake grave to cover his identity. He left a coded message on it in case Dad ever found it, and that's how I discovered where he was stationed, but..."

Keith gave a sympathetic grunt. "You thought it was real."

"Yeah. I thought it was real." Her grip on the flight sticks became painful, and she forced herself to relax. "And then I was just so happy that I'd found Matt that I just kind of...pushed it aside? But a couple of nights after Matt left I was playing video games with Lance and it just hit me. And Lance was there for it."

They had been talking about some of the things they missed about home, and Lance had lamented that he couldn't even remember the last time he experienced rain. Pidge, on the other hand, could remember the last time she experienced rain all too well. It was one of those memories that made her wish she could program a way to delete them.

They flew in silence for a few moments, the stats on the display ticking over as they travelled onwards. They were almost at the base now.

"I'm sorry, Pidge," Keith said finally. "I know that hurt."

Pidge nodded, looking away. "I... Thanks." She fell quiet for a moment, then shook her head. "Anyway. That's when Lance started hanging around a lot more. It probably doesn't mean anything."

"Hmm." The planetoid hosting the base was visible in the viewscreen now, and Keith turned to look as the base rapidly grew larger. "The room with _The Obol_ is around the far side, so you should land her over there."

"Okay." Grateful for the change in topic, Pidge pulled on the flight sticks and the Green Lion soared over the base. They landed gently on the bare rock of the planetoid next to a low, dark building without any windows. Pidge checked the scanners before standing up. "Masks up, Keith. Looks like there's hardly any atmosphere here."

"All right." Pidge bent to grab her helmet when a hand on her shoulder stopped her. "Hey, about Lance? He obviously cares about you. You should try and make it up to him. The sunset thing."

Pidge gaped at him as he released her, activating his mask with his other hand. Keith was the _last_ person she ever expected to get relationship advice from. Keith was who you went to when you wanted to know how to disembowel someone cleanly, not how to make friends.

Keith rapped the helmet in her hands in consternation. "What? Put it on, Pidge. We need to move."

 

#

 

The Heist went off without a hitch.

They'd fallen into old habits quickly, covering each other as they cleared each room of the base. Once they were sure no squatters had moved in since Keith's mission with the Blades they hit up the control room, where Keith kept an eye out (more out of habit than anything else) while Pidge copied every byte of data she could find in their servers.

Once that was done, they moved to the room with _The Obol._

Pidge hadn't been able to hold back the tears when she first saw it. There, right in front of her, lay her father's pride and joy, the pinnacle of a lifetime's career...in pieces all over the floor. The shell of the ship had been taken off in chunks and was still recognisable, but everything down to the toilet seat had been disassembled into its smallest components and then seemingly thrown at random. She wasn't sure if they were stripping it for valuables or just examining it to see how it worked, but both options made her angry. _The Obol_ was a masterpiece of human engineering. It didn't deserve _this_.

But, as always, they had a job to do, and there was no time to wallow in sadness. Pidge brought the Green Lion into the nearest hangar and they quickly got to work, carting bits and pieces from the room to the storage bay in Green's underbelly using some boxes and old-fashioned trundle trolleys that Pidge had found on the castle. Some bits were easy, some — like the larger pieces of the shell — required both pairs of hands and a lot of grunting, and others — like the shredded mattresses they found discarded in a corner — brought the anger back and gave them fuel for the next trip.

At one point — two hours in — Pidge had returned from the hangar to find Keith standing at the side, his back to her and his shoulders shaking. He had turned at her approach and held out the item in his hands — a Garrison jacket with SHIROGANE written on the breast — and her heart had stopped.

She hadn't been prepared to find personal effects.

As it turned out, neither of them were. In hindsight, it was an obvious oversight — why would the Galra keep the pieces of the ship, but not the contents? — but both of them had been so focused on bringing the ship back to life that they forgot about things like socks and pencil cases and photographs. After the discovery of the jacket Keith had fetched three boxes and placed them in the centre of the room, and any personal items they came across were silently placed in the corresponding box before they went back to the task at hand. There was no time to waste on tears.

It took them a little under seven hours to stow everything safely on-board the Green Lion. The three boxes were the last things to board, and stayed in the cockpit with them. Pidge took off, set the autopilot, and took one look at the minute shaking of Keith's shoulders before deciding that there was time to wallow after all. The duo spent the trip back kneeling on the hard floor of the cockpit, turning over the items in the boxes and recounting memories, sobbing and laughing in turn as they leant against each other with tears running down their faces.

By the time they broke atmo on Olkarion they had dry throats and red eyes, but the experience had brought them a little closer and given them renewed determination to put the ship together and fix _something_ in the mess that was their shattered lives. For the first time, Pidge wondered if Keith had specifically asked her to help with this project for more than just her technological prowess.

Unloading was much quicker than loading, and by the time they finally disembarked in Green's hangar — sweaty, greasy, and exhausted — the sky was starting to show the first signs of dawn. If they showered and went straight to bed they might get about four hours sleep before they had to be up for their first meeting of the day, and while that wasn't enough neither Pidge nor Keith were ever really expected to contribute much to diplomatic niceties so Pidge at least had that to be thankful for.

They shuffled down the hallways side-by-side in companionable silence, both too physically exhausted and emotionally drained to bother making conversation. Pidge's entire focus was on putting one foot in front of the other — when she got to her room, she was going to have the quickest, hottest shower ever, and then she was going to sink into her warm Altean blanket-cloud and have the best sleep of her life.

She must have muttered that aloud, because Keith let out a short laugh and grunted something that sounded like 'me too'. Or maybe her thoughts were just that loud that even Keith was picking it up over the bond. Whatever.

Nothing was going to get in the way of her and her bed, and she was so close. They were almost at the lounge.

"What the quiznak have you two been up to?!"

Lance's voice shattered the quiet of the hallway, cutting through her thoughts like a knife and making her head throb with pain. Beside her, Keith stumbled and almost fell, evidently as shocked by Lance's sudden appearance as she was. Or would be, if she was awake enough to feel anything but blurry exhaustion.

"Lance...?" she said slowly, squinting at him. "What are you doing awake?"

Lance stood at the turn towards their rooms in his dressing gown, one hand on his hip as he surveyed them with raised eyebrows. "What am _I_ doing awake? What the quiznaking cheesey telephones are _you two_ doing awake? And don't tell me Rynar took you to a club or something, because I won't believe you."

Pidge stared at him, the wheels in her mind sluggishly turning before settling on an answer. "It's a really long story."

She saw Keith minutely shake his head out of the corner of her eye. By the way Lance's expression hardened, she guessed he'd noticed it too. "Care to share?"

"She can't," Keith said, straightening up. "Secret mission." He patted Pidge lightly on the shoulder and started forward down the hall. "The sun's almost up. I'm going to bed."

Lance narrowed his eyes but let him pass with a murmured 'goodnight' before turning back to Pidge, concern and confusion warring in his gaze. All of a sudden Pidge felt very aware of his presence. She wasn't sure if she wanted to run to him or bolt in the other direction, bed be damned.

As the silence ticked on, Keith's advice from earlier sprang to mind, and the words were tumbling out of her mouth before she had time to think about them. "Do you want to go and watch the sunrise?"

He blinked at her. "Seriously?"

Pidge shrugged and shuffled her feet. "I'll need to take a shower first, but yeah?"

Lance's expression slowly blossomed into a wide smile, and Pidge fleetingly thought that it was brighter than any of the stars she'd seen so far. Quiznak.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

For once, the happiness radiating down the bond was palpable to Pidge.


	2. She Forgot to Look More Closely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things that change somehow stay the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love to ibupony (who's fantastic artwork is up but it's not for this chapter), Reem for her diligent beta-ing (and putting up with my constant barrage of questions), and radiantcerulean for keeping me motivated.

Olkarion sunrises were spectacular — even better than the sunsets — but Pidge didn’t really remember much other than thinking ‘wow’. She remembered taking a pod to the top of a cliff near the city, and how the sky over the trees had turned into a brilliant canvas of greens and blues. But then her head was resting on something warm and Lance was waking her up to input the code to her bedroom door and she realised that he’d given her a piggy-back all the way from the pod bay (and probably from the cliff into the pod, too).

At the time she’d been too tired to care. Now, however, warmth bloomed in her chest whenever she thought about it.

The rest of the summit had gone off without a hitch, and Voltron had returned to its usual ‘float around in space training, fighting, and helping people’ gig. Matt was back with the rebels, Keith was back with the Blades, and Lance was back to following Pidge around like a lost puppy.

That description was a little harsh, especially when half the time Pidge’s heart soared each time he suggested they do something together, even things as mundane as cleaning duty. Their relationship had definitely changed, and Pidge wasn’t sure she could honestly say they were ‘just friends’ anymore, but... How much of that was just wishful thinking? Her crush on Lance had become almost impossible to ignore once Keith had planted the damn idea in her head, and while she was _fine_ when he was around she’d taken to over-analysing every little interaction whenever she was alone and bored.

She had three very good male friends now (not counting Coran, who was much too old for her), and she figured that was a decent enough sample size on which to base a comparative analysis. The results were...confusing. Inconclusive. Lance sat much closer, touched her much more often, spent more time one-on-one. Late-night movies on his bed almost always ended up with them falling asleep on top of each other.

That never happened with her other friends (all of whom were very careful to turn the movie off once Pidge started dozing, and none of whom were ever alone in dark bedrooms with Pidge anyway).

(Quiznak, even thinking about it made it sound inappropriate.)

Still, Lance hadn’t been _acting_ any different. Not in the ways that mattered. He wasn’t blushing any more than normal around her, and he was never the tool he always was around girls he liked. So maybe it was just _Lance_ who was inappropriate?

Perhaps a comparative analysis of Lance’s relationships would yield more definitive results.

She needed more data.

God only knew how she was going to get it, though. It wasn’t like she could enlist the mice, and Coran would eventually notice if she kept hacking the camera logs. On that note,  _Lance_ would eventually catch her watching the recordings with how much he was hanging around, and she didn’t want to find out how he’d react to _that_. Maybe she should just kiss him and see if he freaked out.

If he did, they’d eventually go back to being friends again. If he didn’t…

What would happen if he didn’t?

She wasn’t sure if she had time for a boyfriend. Hell, she wasn’t sure she felt _ready_ for a boyfriend. As much as she wanted his arms around her and his lips on hers, the idea was also somehow mortifying.

Pidge couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t logical. But she didn’t trust herself not to run away squealing like a grade schooler if he actually held her hand, so she was fine with the pseudo-platonic relationship they had. Aside from Keith — who Pidge had ruled out going to for relationship advice after he sprayed his water all over her when she told him about the sunrise ‘date’ — Green was the only one who she actually talked to about Lance, and the lion seemed to think she should wait and see.

Busy as she was with paladin duties, combing through data to find her dad, actually having friends, _and_ sneaking away to work on The Great Puzzling and update Keith regularly on its progress… Pidge was cool with taking things slow.

Then Naxzela happened.

 

#

 

_‘ **No**! We can’t die here! Not **yet**!’_

Pidge had always known she was selfish at heart.

When they’d hit the bottom of that canyon, she hadn’t been panicking about the universe like Allura. She didn’t feel anything like Shiro’s frustrated anger at letting Zarkon win, nor Hunk’s shame at sending their rebel allies into battle to die for them for no reason, nor Lance’s desperate fear of losing their team.

No, all Pidge felt was regret. Regret for not finding her dad. Regret for not finishing the project. Regret for stupidly, _foolishly_ thinking she had the luxury of taking it slow with Lance. She could have woken up next to him that morning. She could have held his hand at the briefing, could have kissed him goodbye before they’d deployed… but now she’d never get the chance.

There was nothing noble in it, but it was what it was. She wasn’t ashamed of it.

‘ _Allura._ ’

 

#

 

Stumbling out of her lion after the battle was the hardest thing Pidge had ever done.

She almost didn’t make it. At the end of the ramp she had fallen, hitting the cool metal of the floor with a dull thud and lying there listlessly. The pain barely registered, and she couldn’t find the energy to make her trembling muscles obey her.

 _Okay_ , she thought. _Better here than in the bridge._

Shiro had told them they needed to keep it together, at least in front of their allies. Once they’d retreated to the Paladin Lounge they could lose it, but until then they needed to be strong. Their allies had suffered heavy losses, and they needed to deal with Lotor.

Fine. But right then, Pidge didn’t think she had any strength left, so she was going to stay right where she was for the next few doboshes.

Echoes of terror, panic, confusion and relief all raced through her head, flashes of coloured boots on metal floors — yellow blue black pink, purple lights and shivering muscles, pain and wonder and pure determination. Apology — from Green, Green was always the clearest — and sorrow at not being able to do _more_.

Pidge wondered what the others were feeling from her.

Then she closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and pushed herself up.

She was the last one on the bridge. The others were arranged in groups:  The Rebels, then the Blade, Voltron in the middle, then representatives from each Coalition planet, all ringed around a heavily-guarded Lotor. When she joined the other paladins Lance immediately laced his fingers through hers and squeezed so tightly it hurt.

The discussion began. Pidge stood straight and squeezed back.

 

#

 

Everything after that had been a blur.

Eventually, all non-essential personnel had been dismissed, leaving only the leaders on the bridge. Matt had squeezed her tightly in the hallway before heading for the hall the Rebels had taken over to mourn their fallen comrades. They'd been halfway to the Paladin Lounge when Hunk had suddenly stopped and marched back towards the bridge, leaving Lance and Pidge to slump against the wall and stare after him. A few doboshes later he reappeared, silent tears streaming down his face as he practically dragged Keith down the corridor towards them.

The sight of Keith was enough to make Pidge finally disentangle her hand from Lance's. She flung herself at him, winding her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest as the first sobs escaped. She ended up on her knees when Keith sunk to the ground, one trembling hand carding through her hair as his brain cycled through endless _almost_ s and _I could've_ 's and _they could've_ 's loud enough for even Pidge to hear.

A moment later Lance joined them, wrapping his arms firmly around Keith's shoulders and burying his face in his hair with a half-angry, half-awed "You were going to die for us?" Pidge felt Keith lean into the touch and then Hunk was upon them, his big arms pulling all three of them into an embrace warmer than any Pidge had ever experienced.

She wasn't sure how long they'd stayed there, kneeling on the ground as they trembled in each other’s' arms, overwhelmed with emotions both theirs and not but each needing to feel and know and _be sure_ that they were still alive, that nobody had been lost to the vastness of space or the horror of war. Eventually, though, Keith had complained about the stink, and they had stumbled to their feet reluctantly, leaning on each other as they made their way to their quarters to shower with a promise to reconvene in the lounge.

It was in the shower that it really hit her. They should have died. _They should have died_.

It was a fucking miracle that any of them were alive right now.

Numb, she'd somehow staggered back into the lounge in her pyjamas, her hair still wet because drying it felt beyond her right then. The others were already there; they glanced briefly at her in concern when the doors opened, and Pidge wondered absently how long she'd been in the shower. Keith was sprawled face-down on one couch; Lance was sitting at the end of it by his feet, leaning back against the cushions; and Hunk was lying on his back on another, leaving the last couch free.

She'd been on her way to claim it when a hand had shot out and she’d found herself unceremoniously pulled into Lance's lap. He held her tightly, muscles quivering as his fingers dug into the flesh of her hips hard enough to bruise; Pidge wrapped her right arm around his waist and brought her left hand to his throat, burying her face in his neck and pressing herself closer, doing nothing but breathing in his fresh scent and savouring the warmth of his skin.

"I almost lost you," he muttered, nosing the side of her head. "I almost lost you..."

Pidge said nothing and simply shut her eyes, tears dripping from her cheeks to his collarbone as she gripped him tighter.

 

#

 

“Am I interrupting something?”

Pidge lifted her head sluggishly to look at the new arrival. Lance relaxed his grip just as slowly, and the change in pressure made Pidge wince.

How long had they been sitting there? She hadn’t been sleeping, but she had no idea. Her head still felt like it was stuffed full of cotton balls. Both the tears and her hair had long since dried, though, so it must have been at least an hour.

Lance’s hand on the side of her head kept her from moving away, gently pressing her against his shoulder as he shook his head. “You’re not. What’s up, Allura?”

Allura shifted from side to side, uncharacteristically nervous, exhaustion rolling off her in waves. Pidge squinted up at her. She was still in her armour, which meant she’d only just finished the discussions. How the hell was she still holding it together?

“I wanted to thank you, Lance, for believing in me. Even though it still wasn’t enough, without you I never would have—”

“Like I said, it was all you.”

Allura looked away, and the hand holding Pidge down disappeared. Pidge frowned in confusion.

“Allura, what are you doing?”

Allura looked at her, wide-eyed. “I—”

“Get down here.” Pidge rolled her eyes and grabbed Allura’s arm, yanking her on top of her and Lance with a grunt. Lance yelped, probably at the sudden extra weight (Allura was _heavy_! Why was she so heavy?), and Allura let out a very un-princess-like squeak.

“Pidge! What are you—”

“Oh, hush,” Pidge scolded, wrapping her arms around her firmly. “You need a hug. We all need hugs.”

Allura finally gave in, collapsing against them both, and Pidge felt Lance's chest rumble with a laugh as he said, “Hey, Hunk! Get the others and get over here.”

 

#

 

For a time, not much really changed. The Paladins trained in the mornings and did chores and other work in the afternoons. The Coalition trundled on, gaining ground in small increments. The biggest boon of having Lotor so far was that Voltron’s missions had been easier than normal — leaving everybody with more time for personal pursuits.

In Pidge’s case, this meant trying to sneak away to work on _The Obol_ without arousing suspicion. This would have been easier if Lance hadn’t apparently decided that she was _his_ personal pursuit.

Their relationship was still hovering in that weird space between platonic and romantic, despite Pidge’s last thoughts on Naxzela. A part of her knew it would be so easy to change — just reach out and take his hand, offer him a kiss on the cheek and then the lips, or, you know, do the mature communication thing the magazines always talked about and ask ‘hey, what are we?’ — but something always held her back. Inexperience? Stress? Who knew? She was mostly over the weird embarrassment, but she still couldn’t bring herself to cross that line.

In her defence, though, Lance was supposed to be the ‘loverboy’ and he hadn’t made his move yet, either. She wasn’t entirely sure why — he _must_ know she liked him. Hell, Hunk had told her as much when he asked her what was going on between them, which had been a fun conversation (apparently he’d been more-than-slightly surprised that some of his last moments alive were being spent imagining kissing Lance, and he’d needed convincing that it was a daydream and not a memory), but Lance still hadn’t done anything about it.

And he’d had a _lot_ of chances. Assuming he wanted to make a move, that is, but then again… If he didn’t, why was he always asking her to spend time with him?

Having the object of your affections attach themselves to your hip was frustrating when you had no idea why they were doing it, and doubly so when you were trying to keep spaceship-sized secrets.

She couldn’t say that she was working on finding her dad, because she’d never turned his company down for that before. The few times she’d turned him down directly with some contrived excuse his face had fallen so quickly her heart had ached, and he’d quietly moped for a good day each time. Pidge was resorting to disappearing for snatches of time, especially whenever she knew Lance was otherwise occupied; this meant progress was slower than she would have liked, but it was safer. Keith was still very worried about being discovered so she’d rigged the cameras in the hangar to stop anyone from accidentally seeing her project, and she made sure to keep her tablet with her whenever she was down there. The Castle was so large that everyone was in the habit of calling whoever they wanted to find as the first step; as long as she picked up, she shouldn’t be caught puzzling.

“Why do you keep calling it that?” Keith’s voice rang out from the tablet on the corner of her bed as she towel-dried her hair.

Pidge laughed. “My mom used to love jigsaw puzzles. They were one of the few things we used to do together, and when I was little I used to say we were puzzling.”

The reply sounded amused. “That’s not a word though, right?”

“You’re right, it isn’t. It stuck, though, and we all started saying that,” Pidge replied, throwing the towel on the desk at a knock on her door. “Hang on.”

Unsurprisingly, it was Lance who stood on the other side, one hand casually running through his own wet hair. “Hey Pidge. Do you wanna watch a movie or something tonight? Hunk says he wants to turn in early, and Shiro and Allura are busy…”

Pidge smiled. “Sure. Come in while I get my stuff together?”

He stepped into the room with a nod, smiling when the little blue caterpillar floated towards him in greeting. “I still can’t believe you called this thing ‘Keith’.”

“Is that Lance?”

Lance yelped and grabbed the little caterpillar, staring at it in surprise. “Pidge! What did you do to it?”

Pidge burst into giggles and held the tablet up. “I was talking to Keith when you knocked.”

Blue Keith wriggled out of Lance’s grip and floated over to hide behind the trash statue in the corner, while Lance turned his gaze to the tablet, a smile already on his face. “Hey man! What’s up?”

He took the tablet from her and settled himself on the bed to talk. Pidge grinned to herself at Keith’s wide-eyed expression then set about digging through her room to find the storage drive with the movies. It was nice, hearing two of her best friends catch up. It felt like home.

Once she’d gotten everything ready she joined Lance on the bed, shoulder pressed against his as they talked with Keith for far longer than she had meant to. Almost every conversation with him lately was about the project or missions, so it was nice just to _catch up_. She learned that one of the Blades was an incredible fighter but ridiculously clumsy off the battlefield and so was only ever sent on security detail (much to her chagrin). They talked about how weird it was that they actually _liked_ the food goo now, and Keith promised to bring some of the Galra version with him next time (apparently it was purple). Then Lance made her hold the tablet so that he could mime the appropriate actions as they told him about Hunk’s latest kitchen disaster, where the smorple berry he was trying to bake exploded and blew the oven door off.

Finally, Keith was summoned to a meeting and they signed off. Pidge hopped up to grab some water pouches, leaving the tablet with Lance.

“So, do you wanna watch it here, or go to your room, or take over the lounge?” she asked, tossing a pouch to Lance and pushing her straw into her own. “My room’s not exactly tidy but we’re already here…”

“Holy cheese, Pidge, you talk to Keith a lot.”

“Huh?”

Lance’s attention was on the tablet. The screen had automatically switched back to their chat history when Keith had hung up, and Lance was slowly scrolling through it, his brows furrowed.

Pidge frowned and moved to join him on the bed but then froze, a cold feeling of dread sliding down her spine and settling in her belly. The feeling disappeared as quickly as it had come, and she blinked, disoriented.

What _was_ that? Had that been from Lance?

“Lance?”

He shrugged, shoulders slumping as he glanced away before taking a deep breath and meeting her gaze. “Are you sneaking off to talk to Keith?”

Pidge’s mouth fell open. “I… What? Why would I be sneaking off to talk to Keith?”

“Just some of the times line up and…” Lance looked back at the tablet and this time she felt an equally confusing flash of heat and annoyance and _yeah of course that makes sense_. “I dunno. You’ve been avoiding me lately.”

“What the quiznak?” she said without heat, making a face as she sat down next to him. She’d been spending _all_ her free time with him lately. “I’m here right now, aren’t I? You’re in my bedroom! How can I be avoiding you?”

“Just…” He shook his head then stood up. “I’m sorry, Pidge. It’s late already, I should go.”

He avoided her gaze, his shoulders slumped, and when he turned away Pidge found herself afraid that if she let him leave, he wouldn’t come back.

She lunged forward and grabbed his hand, panic tight in her throat. “Wait!” Lance froze, his back to her, and Pidge gripped his hand a little tighter. “I thought...I thought you wanted to watch a movie together?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Please?” she pleaded, tugging on his hand to make him face her. He studied her for a moment, his gaze carefully guarded, and suddenly and _absurdly_ all she could think about was how warm his hand was in hers and how cold her room would feel if he left it.

She had no idea what to do. Did he think she preferred Keith’s company to his?

Green nudged her mind and Keith’s advice from months ago flashed through her head again.

 _You should try and make it up to him_.

She took a deep breath.

“I’ve actually been looking forward to it since you asked me.” His eyes widened, and she lost her nerve and looked away. “So, um, I’d really like it if you stayed…”

Hesitation reigned for a few moments before Pidge risked a glance, offering a small smile when she realised he looked as lost as she felt. She tugged his hand gently, a blush warming her cheeks as she gazed up at him.

“So?”

He nodded.

 

#

 

Puzzling was a skill Pidge had long honed into a fine art.

First, you had to turn all of the pieces over, so that you knew what you were dealing with. Next you grouped them into like pieces — edge pieces together, blue pieces together, garden pieces together, etc. Then — and only then — could you start puzzling, one small group at a time.

The Great Puzzling was no exception — in fact, it _required_ such a meticulous approach if Pidge was ever going to finish it. As such, the first task she’d set herself to was compiling a painstakingly detailed inventory of every single piece she had. Some pieces she could categorise as she inventoried them — she recognised every piece of the interior of the cockpit, for example — but some things she had to guess, and there was also a (blessedly) small pile of things labelled ‘for Hunk’ (because despite Keith’s objections, she was going to need Hunk at some point).

It had taken her longer than it should have to finish the inventory, but she’d had a run of uninterrupted puzzling time lately and she had finally, _finally_ made decent progress. She’d even managed to assemble a few small sections, like the communication deck and the diagnostic display.

However, her successes made it impossible to overlook a glaring problem:  some pieces were missing.

The most obvious one was the chair. The cockpit was meant to have three chairs, yet she only had two. She wasn’t sure how the quiznak it had taken her so long to realise that, but there it was. Another obvious one was the decals — the GG logo that went on the outside of the ship was missing, as well as the interior panel that had been signed by everyone who had worked on the ship.

The rest weren’t so obvious, but she had a sinking feeling that more was missing. She was sure her dad had said there were 1,232 pieces in the thruster engines, but she’d only managed to find 1,231.

Keith was less than pleased when she told him.

“Are you sure?”

“For the last time, Keith, yes. I’m sure,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “There’s bits missing.”

He swore under his breath, then paused. “How...did we not notice the _chair_ was missing?”

Pidge shrugged. “I figured you’d loaded it. You probably thought the same.” She pushed a sweaty strand of hair off her forehead, grimacing when she felt grease on her skin, before continuing. “We can just manufacture new ones, anyway. We’ve got the tech to do —”

“No.”

“No? No what?”

“Just...no,” he repeated, his gaze sliding away from the camera briefly. “We… _I_ am gonna see if we can track them down first.”

Pidge stared at the screen. “You wanna do _what_? Why?! How will you even—”

“Lower-level Galra officers sell things on the black market all the time. I’ve got some contacts through the Blade, I’ll start asking around.”

“Do you really think you’ll be able to track them down?” she asked, chewing on the inside of her cheek. It felt like trying to find a needle in a haystack to Pidge.

Keith nodded. “I’ve got to try. If you can analyse that data from the base I might have a better idea of where to start.”

“Okay…” she said slowly, mind already whirring. “I can start on that tonight. But… Okay. Keith? Can I ask why?”

He blinked at her. “Why what?”

“Why are you so against manufacturing the missing parts ourselves? It would be a _lot_ easier.”

Keith paused, deliberating over each word before replying.

“If we did that, it wouldn’t be the ship that went to Kerberos, would it?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the plot begin =D
> 
> Fun fact! Puzzling is actually a word my jigsaw-puzzle-obsessed friend uses (alas, I am apparently an inadequate puzzler). I totally forgot it wasn't a real word (at least in this context) when I started writing this fic.


	3. She Forgot it Wasn't Just About Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to ibupony, my wonderful artist, and Reem, my amazing beta. (Without whom this chapter would be much, much different.) (And credit also goes to Reem for the chapter summary, which I am now STICKING WITH after changing it three times.)
> 
> Apologies for the wait, and for the short chapter - everything that's meant to be in here is already here (next chapter will be a long one, though).
> 
> As an aside, I am extremely proud of myself for my (unplanned) ability to cram all of my Pidge headcanons into this fic. (Now I just need her to fight with someone about Italian food.)

“Forgive my interruption, Princess, but did you just say _refugees_?”

J'aothlians were _officially_ Pidge's least favourite aliens. They ranked even lower than Galra, given that she actively liked more than a few of them.

“Yes, Kztaun, there is some refugee movement between planets in the Coalition,” Allura replied. Her disdain was loud and clear through the bond, but — impressively — there was no trace in her voice. Allura’s diplomatic skills were one of Voltron’s best assets.

Pidge, for her part, was only ever expected to play nice, but she really should be better at diplomacy. The Holts had been in the Garrison for six generations and ranked as Commander or higher for all of them.  Charity galas and harsh whispers of ‘Katerina, _please_ don’t embarrass me this time’ were staples of her childhood.

She’d only escaped her junior débutante ball because half her family ‘died’ and it would be ‘too much stress’. Honestly, that was probably the only objectively _good_ thing to come out of the Kerberos mission.

“You see, Princess, we don’t exactly have the room or _resources_ for refugees, though we are of course happy to help in other ways…”

Pidge carefully kept her face neutral, biting back a snort. Her mother would have been proud.

J'aothl had _plenty_ of room for refugees, and refugees would probably be lining up to come here. The city was built of white stone and had wide, clean streets and large squares filled with orderly-but-colourful stalls. A pristine white beach and a crystal-clear ocean bordered it on one side, with vast, mostly _uninhabited_ savannas extending to snow-capped mountains on the other.

They could gift each refugee an acre of land and probably still never see them. Alas, J’aothl was in a heavily occupied quadrant of the Empire and inaccessible by anything other than teludav, a technology which the rest of the Coalition were sorely lacking.

“Actually, the refugee situation is mostly under control. We were hoping that you could help us make inroads into the more established areas of the Empire…”

The J’aothlian ministers — or _Kztaun_ , as they called themselves — discreetly heaved a collective sigh of relief. Pidge felt a wave of anger wash over her. _Two-faced, selfish snobs._

The planet had been a part of the Empire for millennia, and over the centuries evolved into a vacation destination for Galra subjects. It was nothing like the impoverished, oppressed planets Voltron usually visited. The only reason J’aothl was considering joining the Coalition at all was because tourist GAC had ground to a halt with all the upheaval. Even the commander in charge of the planet had been redeployed elsewhere, along with his entourage.

The Kztaun Major was obviously hoping that the Coalition could help to plug the gap.

Pidge tried to tune out the discussion as it turned towards intelligence, trade, and treaties. Natural beauty aside, J’aothl was apparently the most medically advanced planet in the universe and the original creators of Altean healing pod technology, which was the main reason Allura and Coran had jumped at the invitation despite the risky location. If they came on board Pidge would end up being briefed separately on the tech side of things, so it didn’t really matter if she paid that much attention now.

Plus, the last time she’d been in a room with people like this she’d gotten herself arrested for assault and banned from the Garrison Social Club. She didn’t quite trust herself to speak.

“...come here, the view across the water is absolutely delightful. After dinner, if you have time…”

Hunk glanced at Pidge nervously while she suppressed a twitch.

“Oh yeah, I’d love to!”

“I’m exceedingly glad to hear that our Justice Kztaun will be able to show you more of our beautiful planet. Now if we could…”

Pidge pushed her annoyance down and battled to tune out the conversation again. She was a Holt. She’d been brought up around people like this, and honestly? This lot had nothing on some of the Garrison wives.

It was probably because she was tired.

That had to be it. Pidge was really proud of the progress she'd been making on _The Obol_ lately — the first half a foot or so was even recognisable as the bottom of the spaceship, a feat she didn't think was possible without Hunk — but progress came at a price, and for Pidge that price was collapsing into bed way past midnight after quick showers to get the grease off.

Facing the the universe's self-proclaimed greatest hosts and 'most evolved civilisation' on roughly two months of averaging four hours’ sleep a night would be difficult for anybody.

“I’m sure your Blue Paladin would make a fine escort.”

Pidge closed her eyes and blocked it out. _It was just because she was tired._

Her bad mood had nothing to do with the Justice Kztaun being one of the most beautiful alien women Pidge had ever seen, nor the fact that she had been making eyes at Lance since the Castle had touched down.

Nor the fact that Lance was _lapping it up_.

Nausea swirled in her belly, and Pidge swallowed. It was ridiculous, but whatever. She wasn’t going to care.

The Kztaun kept batting her eyelashes at him, smiling, flipping her hair over her shoulder (even though it wasn’t even as long as Pidge’s had been!), and directing the conversation towards him for his 'valuable input'. Lance, for his part, was actually being _charming_ — flirting subtly, paying her compliments at all the right times... Since when was he even able to do that?!

He'd barely even glanced at Pidge. Pidge, who'd been _stupid_ enough to think that maybe they were on the verge of something. That maybe he actually liked her back. That liking Lance might not be such a bad thing after all, that maybe, _maybe_ \--

Hunk’s warm hand closed around her lower arm gently, cutting that train of thought off before it could show on her face. Pidge wished she could slip her hand into his, squeeze it until she could feel the steady comfort radiating through his warm skin, but that wouldn’t exactly look professional.

Instead, she took a deep breath as quietly as she could and focused on counting the flowers in the vase. Had she seen flowers resembling these at one of those horrible galas before? Maybe if she could place a memory she could remember some snarky comment about how ‘legacy women don’t pilot’ and get angry again.

Anger looked good on a soldier. Bursting into tears at the negotiating table? Not so much.

At least she was meeting Keith later. Apparently the chair and a few smaller pieces had been sold to a collector on the outskirts of the city, so she was meeting him after the dinner tonight. All she had to do was try to ignore stupid Lance and his stupid flirting (with everyone but _her_ , he’d _never_ flirted like that with _her_ ) and the concerned gazes that everyone else kept shooting her way...and somehow keep ignoring them all the way through dinner. Oh, and she had to definitely _not_ stage a repeat of the Holt Fundraising Dinner in the process.

Then she would be free to sneak around the city with Keith who, at the very least, wouldn’t judge her if she needed to hit something.

Just six more vargas to go.

 

#

 

 _Madonna_ , how did she get into these situations? Here she was in space, millions of light-years away from any known allergens, and yet her eyes were sore, itchy, and watering, her nose was completely blocked, and her chest felt tight.

She glanced at Keith next to her on the sofa, completely unaffected as he sipped his tea, and for a fleeting moment she understood Lance’s jealousy.

Another round of sneezing racked her body with the force of an ion cannon. M'tchkiera tsk'd sympathetically. "I really can't understand how that can be common for your species," she said as she passed Pidge another tissue. "Anyway, as I was saying... Litchvr then had to travel to the Pyralliul Quadrant, which as you know is terribly far from here..."

Just to spite her -- because that seemed to be what the universe was up to today -- another one of those stupid ngl'achra-whatevers (why was every name on this stupid planet impossible to pronounce?! Cats. They were space cats. Done.) climbed over her shoulder from the back of the sofa and jumped onto her lap. She hurriedly pushed the space cat off as gently as possible, but the quiznaking furball _still_ managed to leave a cloud of pastel pink and blue fur in its wake.

And off she went with another round of sneezing.

"Here, dear, have some more tea." A cup of steaming neon pink tea appeared under Pidge's nose when her vision finally cleared. She accepted it gratefully, and, without missing a beat, M'tchkiera (who insisted on being called Mad'ynko for short, because that apparently made complete, logical sense on J’aothl) continued on with her story. "At that point in time his mother had taken up with a woman from the Y'cht'kry District near the Gyrzcha Savanna -- I know you're likely busy with paladin and other duties but if you do get a chance to explore the city, don't waste any time there, it's dreadfully boring..."

Pidge had no idea what the conversation was even about anymore, so she tuned it out and hoped she was humming at the appropriate times. Mad'ynko — the first collector Keith had identified as having parts of _The Obol_ — was an elderly J'aothlian lady who seemingly had a great deal of money and very little to spend it on. She had greeted them kindly, ushered them inside, listened to why they had come, and immediately offered them tea. Honestly, she was the first J'aothlian that Pidge actually sort of liked.

Only sort of, though. So far she had told them the life stories of what seemed like every single person in the district --  along with those of their cousins, childhood best friends, and random farmers’ market buddies — but whenever Keith steered the conversation back to _The Obol_ , she would look at one of her bazillion space cats and say, 'But they would be so sad without their favourite chair!'

Two of said space cats were watching her from the familiar orange chair right now, their fluffy tails swishing slowly as they sprawled out on the seat, mocking her with their eyes.

Pidge refrained from sticking her tongue out and took another sip of tea. The pinnacle of human engineering, and it had been reduced to a _cat tree_.

She was going to need something stronger than tea.

"So then Harold, Zgniecs bless his soul—" Pidge blinked. _Harold_? "—was awarded the Medal of Highest Healing, but of course, as his widow, I submitted it to the Museum after his passing, and, as luck would have it, it ended up on the pyre—"

"I'm sorry for your loss," Pidge murmured automatically, feeling completely thrown for a loop. Everything on this stupid planet was completely unpronounceable, yet this woman's husband had been called _Harold_?

(It was probably short for Glyg'tch'kinzkaria.)

"Oh, Harold?" Mad'ynko waved a hand dismissively. "No need, my dear, no need. I'm well shot of him. Remaining dutiful while the poison worked was troublesome, of course, but—"

Both Pidge and Keith choked on their tea in unison.

Keith recovered first. "Uh," he began, banging his fist against his sternum. "You poisoned your husband?"

Mad'ynko looked at him coolly over the rim of the delicate silver teacup. "Why, yes, dear, of course. He was a philanderer." She took a sip, then smiled at Pidge. "It was by far the best decision I ever made. I've still got some left; shall I give you a vial together with the spaceship parts in case your black-haired beau here decides to stray?"

Pidge spluttered, making herself sneeze again in the process. "We're not together! We're just friends!"

"Oh?"

One perfectly groomed eyebrow was arched high as she looked between the two.

"We're...not like that," Keith confirmed, gripping his tea tightly. "Pidge is more like...like a little sister, than anything."

"Aw, Keith!" Pidge smiled and ducked her head cutely, batting her eyelashes at him, though the effect was probably muted somewhat by the giant clump of snot she could feel dangling from her nose.

Keith rolled his eyes and handed her another tissue, but that was _definitely_ a blush on his cheeks, the sight of which warmed her heart.

Mad'ynko studied them curiously, one pale hand gently stroking the pastel purple space cat in her lap. She waited until the tissue had joined the growing pile of them in the trash can by Pidge’s feet before continuing the conversation.

"Why not? Are you already married to another?” Mad'ynko smiled indulgently, and Pidge was irresistibly reminded of summer nights spent being subjected to her Nonna’s good-natured — but nosey — neighbours. “Forgive me if I'm being presumptuous, but I find it difficult to believe that one as beautiful and accomplished as yourself should be single!"

Yep, Mad'ynko would fit right in with the _donna_. (Had she mentioned having a son who was single yet…?)

Keith laughed. "She has a boyfriend."

"No, I quiznaking _don't_ ," Pidge cut in, mood immediately souring. She took a deep breath and relaxed her grip on the delicate cup before continuing, ignoring the curious look Keith shot her. "I don't have time for a boyfriend, anyway."

"Much better that way, I fear," Mad'ynko answered primly. "Men simply can't help themselves. It's better to be alone than to allow someone to make you feel second-best."

"Tell me about it," Pidge muttered bitterly, downing the rest of her tea in one gulp. Apparently Lance really couldn't help himself. It was like he saw a pretty face and his brain just switched off.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ —

Mad'ynko leaned forward to pat Pidge on the arm, nudging the purple space cat off her lap in the process. "Don't you worry, my dear. I'll make sure to add a vial or two to the package."

Pidge stared at her for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Maybe Mad'ynko _would_ be the first J'aothlian she liked, after all.

 

#

 

“Hand it over.”

Pidge wiped the sweat off her brow and blinked. “Hand what over?”

“The poison she gave you,” Keith said with a roll of his eyes. “Hand it over.”

“I’m not gonna use it.” She glared at him when Keith shot her a look over his water packet.

They were standing in the Great Puzzling Hangar at about two in the morning, having just finished cleaning and installing all three chairs onto the now-completed floor (having an extra pair of hands really helped with the heavy lifting).

They’d gotten the chair back to the castle via a hair-raising ride across the city in the cab of one of Mad'ynko’s neighbour’s sons’ hover-vans. For all its ‘great civilisation’, J’aothl apparently had very little in the way of road rules.

(Keith was going to return to Mad'ynko’s with an Altean blanket-cloud for the space cats tomorrow. He had been offered a lift, but Pidge suspected he was going to walk.)

Aside from the chair, Mad'ynko had also purchased a small box of odds-and-ends which now needed to be categorised properly. None of them were the missing thruster engine piece (from what Pidge could see), but one piece definitely looked like a bit of the flight stick…

“Pidge.”

She sighed. “Keith, I am not going to poison Lance. Relax already.”

“I’d rather you didn’t have temptation to hand,” he said evenly, plopping himself on the ground in front of her box.

Pidge steadfastly ignored his gaze and continued sorting through the contents.

“Pidge…”

“Ugh, fine!” She pulled the two little vials from her pocket and threw them at him.

The jerk caught them with ease — how were his reflexes so good? Was it a Galra thing? — and she ducked her head, focusing on the box so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I don’t have any reason to use them on Lance anyway. It’s not like we were dating.”

“You weren’t? I thought you were spending all your free time together.” Keith’s tone was genuinely surprised.

The words stabbed her straight through the heart, and she tried to hide a wince. She shrugged miserably, knuckles tightening around a titanium exhaust of some sort; apparently she wasn’t the only one who’d been reading things wrong.

“Yeah, well, I guess that meant something different to Lance.”

Keith didn’t reply, and she willed herself to focus on the pieces. For the next few moments they sat in silence, the only noise the slurping of Keith’s straw and the clinking of metal on metal as Pidge grouped like components together.

Keith’s water packet had long been empty by the time he finally spoke.

“Pidge, I...I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

Sudden, burning tears pricked at her eyes, and she furiously blinked them away. “Look… I knew Lance was like that from the start. We all did. I guess… Oh, quiznak, Keith, I don’t know.” Pidge ran her hands through her hair and gazed at the ceiling of the hangar. “Can we talk about something else? Anything else?”

“Sure.” Keith tossed his empty water packet towards the door and got to his feet. “What were you planning on working on next? Is there anything else you want me to move while I’m here?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the angst begin.
> 
> And just in case this is not clear, this fic is in no way, shape or form a love triangle.
> 
> Leave me a comment and tell me what you think!
> 
> Oh, and let me know if you wanna know what happened at the Holt Fundraising Dinner. There's a story there.


	4. She Forgot to Step Outside Her Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perspective is a funny thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rocks up a month late with Starbucks*
> 
> Shoutout to ibupony, my wonderful artist, and Reem, my amazing beta.
> 
> It's extra long to make up for the wait.
> 
> Only the last scene of this was planned, so the chapter count has gone up! Pidge needed to think some more, who was I to deny her?

One week.

One week of sitting at opposite ends of the dining table at mealtimes, of switching directions and heading down different hallways. One week of silent glares, of strictly-business conversation, distance where there should have been warmth; seven whole days of simmering resentment and hurt, of biting her tongue and looking away, of sleeping too much, or hardly at all, of aching fingers and the small nicks and burns that came from throwing herself into her work and projects to try and escape _him_.

One week of Pidge feeling the loneliest she’d ever felt.

It was stupid, really. Her brother and father had been lost to the stars and her whole world had come crashing down around her, but it hadn’t felt like _this_. This type of heartbreak was a whole new ballgame. She now understood why there were so many stupid songs about it.

Grief had been emptiness:  hours of staring up at dark ceilings and finding herself surprised that she was still breathing, sudden tears from trivial reminders followed by all-encompassing rage with no outlet that wouldn’t get her expelled or disowned. Her therapist had said that grieving was like a battle fought against acceptance, and one that you could only win when you lost (but then she’d actually _found_ Matt so Dr. Chang could go fuck herself, thank you very much).

Heartbreak, Pidge decided, was much like grief but not quite as bad — if grief was a ten, heartbreak got a seven or an eight. The killer was that heartbreak apparently came with thoughts like _How was I so stupid?_ and _I must not have been good enough_ (neither of which plagued her when her family was lost in space), and then there was the nightly 2 a.m. temptation to message him or just go to his door and beg or plead or say anything to _make it stop_.

She’d throw herself out the airlock before she ever gave in to it, though. Every time she felt the urge she cranked the music up and got busy. Her room was the cleanest it had ever been — a direct result of getting rid of everything that reminded her of Lance and then realising that she was already halfway through a complete renovation anyway (why did he have to have spent so much _time_ in there? And why did he give her so many damn trinkets?) —  and she had almost completed a cat-tree-come-hamster-maze for Keith and Shiro.

(Not that they really used the perches, since they could both float, but they did seem to like hiding in the boxes and squeezing through the tunnels.)

Another week, and Pidge found herself sitting on the mat in the training deck, carefully avoiding paying too much attention to where Lance was sprawled beside her. Shiro stared down at them like an overworked teacher, arms folded across his chest as he said, “ _This_ is why I don’t like fraternisation.”

Pidge caught a glimpse of Lance straightening up as she looked away and shrugged, saying, “We weren’t fraternising, Shiro.”

Shiro sighed. “Pidge…”

“No, no, you heard her!” Lance cut in, voice high-pitched and dripping with more sarcastic bitterness than he had any right to. “There was no fraternisation here!”

“Look, Lance, when we talked you promised things with you and Pidge wouldn't end up like this and now—”

“Sure, but there apparently wasn’t any _things_ to end up in any way anyway,” he said, angrily gesturing between Pidge and himself, “so you can’t blame _me_ for this!”

Her blood boiled. “Excuse me, _what_?! How the quiznak is this _my_ fault?!”

“You’re the one who suddenly decided she cared!”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?!” She slammed her palms on the floor with a bang and pushed herself to her knees, drawing on as much height as she could to meet him verbal blow for verbal blow.

Lance met her head-on, his gaze harsh. “Just that you—”

“ENOUGH!”

Shiro’s bellow reverberated off the walls, putting a stop to the argument before it really got going. He glared between them in the ensuing silence, daring them to pick it back up again.

When neither did, he continued, “You are both Paladins of Voltron. The lives of everybody on this team depend on you two getting along. Hell, the lives of everybody in the _universe_ rely on you getting along. I know you’re both hurting, but it’s time to put this aside and be civil.”

Pidge shifted uncomfortably. Things weren’t _that_ bad, were they? Green’s warm presence stirred at the back of her mind in gentle rebuke. Things weren’t quite that bad yet, but there was potential for it to get much, much worse.

It sure as quiznak wasn’t _Pidge’s_ fault, though.

“We’ve been plenty civil Shiro, just—” Lance started to protest.

“If you have, it hasn’t been enough,” Shiro cut him off with a shake of his head before plowing on. “Pidge, Lance, as of now you are each other’s admin, chore, and training buddies.  You’re going to be joined at the hip until you learn to get along again.”

Lance’s stream of protests flew past Pidge as she stared at Shiro, mouth agape, a single drop of dread sliding down her spine at the thought.

_Oh no._

 

#

 

She hated to admit it, but Shiro had been right.

It hadn’t taken long for the cold war between them to fizzle out. Curt business-only exchanges evolved into shared grumbles about the amount of chores they’d been assigned (there had definitely been extra), which were followed by occasional comments and short conversations about whatever they were doing. Within two or three quintants they were cracking jokes and getting along well enough that Shiro decided to un-glue them, and then they were officially sort of friends again.

Sort of. There was a simmering tension in the air between them (which Pidge really didn’t understand, because what gave _Lance_ the quiznaking right to be mad? He was the one who was all over that alien!) and they didn’t hang out alone together anymore, but they could have fun together in a group and got along fine when it came to Voltron business. That was all that mattered.

It still stung, but Pidge found the pain surprisingly manageable. _The Obol_ , helping Matt upgrade the Coalition ships, and all of the Lotor-related drama allowed her to bunch up her feelings and bury them deep, and between that and the pseudo-normal that now marked their friendship she was able to avoid thinking about Lance without too much trouble. Thankfully, the rest of Team Voltron had decided to stay out of it, so she didn’t have to face a dozen reminders a day.

The only person who brought it up was Hunk, and even Hunk only brought it up once.

“Why should _I_ have to go and talk to him?” Pidge said incredulously, gesturing wildly with her spoon from her perch on the kitchen counter.  

Hunk rolled his eyes and sighed. “Because he’s adamant about not talking to you, okay? And I’ve known Lance for years; when he’s dug his heels in like this he’s not coming round.”

Pidge scooped another blob of space cookie dough from the bowl and shook her head. “No. I… What am I even gonna say, Hunk? ‘Hi, I thought we had something but it turns out you’re a cheating jerk?’”

“Pidge.”

“What?” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Okay, fine, we weren’t dating so whatever but…”

“No,” he said, placing one warm hand on her shoulder. “Look, I’ve talked to him about it and gotten his story — don’t look at me like that! — and unless I’m missing something, I know your side of things…?”

He looked at her questioningly, and Pidge nodded.

“From where I’m standing, you’re both in the wrong.”

Pidge blinked, spoon dangling from her mouth. “Uh, excuse me?”

“What I just said, Pidge, you’re both in the wrong.” Hunk reached out to snatch the spoon from her while she leaned away from him. “Give me that, you shouldn’t eat this raw.”

“It’s cookie dough; it’s meant to be eaten raw,” she replied automatically, still trying to process Hunk’s opinion. “How am _I_ in the wrong? What the quiznak did I do to Lance?”

“It’s _space_ cookie dough, Pidge,” he answered with an exasperated sigh. “Anyway, I told Lance I’m not gonna get involved, and, to be honest, I really don’t want to at any rate because the two of you? You’ve made a _mess_ of things. But— Ugh, I’m rambling.” He shook his head and looked Pidge in the eye. “Just talk to him, okay?”

Pidge had frowned and promised to think about it, and that was apparently enough for Hunk to drop the subject. In the end, however, other things got in the way and talking to Lance got pushed to the very bottom of Pidge’s priority list.

They found her dad, for one.

 

#

 

“I still can’t believe you managed to do all of this yourself, Katie.” Sam wiped the sweat from his brow, then rolled his eyes at Pidge’s look. “Sorry. Pidge.”

Pidge grinned. “I had some help from Keith with the bigger bits.”

“And now from Matt, too!” Matt piped up, waving a wrench at her from where he lay on the floor of _The Obol_ ’s crew quarters. “Even though Matt specifically went into comms because he _hated_ getting greasy…”

“A bit of grease is good for a man,” Sam said. “Gives you character. Women, too.” He leaned over and wiped his thumb over Pidge’s nose, making her laugh and try to duck away.

“Dad! Now I look like Shiro!”

Matt laughed. “That would be an improvement. Hey, come and help me with the oscillator.”

Glaring, Pidge picked her way through the half-formed flooring towards her brother and plopped herself down next to him. “What do you want me to do?”

Together they began to puzzle out the trouble he was having, but in the end they had to pull Sam away from the area he was working on to figure out exactly why the pieces wouldn’t fit (it turned out there was _another_ piece missing). Then they moved onto the next section of the ship, making quick progress. Having the ship’s engineer made a huge difference— Sam had helped put it together the first time, after all.

Pidge wished he didn’t have to leave.

Lying on the floor of the spaceship, covered in grease and cutting her fingers on metal edges with her _family_ was like something out of a dream. Pidge kept surreptitiously pinching herself to make sure it was real. Yes, that really was her dad showing her brother how to fix the wing frame to the aft fuselage. That was Dad. That was Matt. Both of them, right there, with her, in her Puzzling Hangar... Talking and laughing, sharing jokes, reminiscing, teasing each other, debating what went where...

It was so much like the nights they’d all spent around the kitchen table, arguing over shades of blue on cardboard pieces and why this part was meant to be in _this_ corner instead of in _that_ corner, taking turns to fetch the sweet tea or lemonade and begging Mom to get the right milk to make ricotta for next time so they could have cannoli instead of Doritos.

Pidge blinked back tears, smiling. Mom wasn’t here, all they had was water, and Dad would be leaving in a few days, but…

In that moment, all of the fighting, the fear, and the pain were worth it.

She had her family back.

Later on the three of them lounged in the cockpit seats with water pouches and some snacks Hunk had given them for their ‘family time’ before swiftly making himself scarce. Sam and Matt had both taken their seats from the mission with a gravitas that made Pidge giggle, and Pidge had curled herself up in Shiro’s seat, causing Matt to comment ‘it’s almost like she’s a real pilot now!’

(He got a snack cake lobbed at his head for that.)

“That Hunk boy’s an impressive cook,” Sam said appreciatively, smiling as he offered the plate to Pidge. “That’s a good trait in a man.”

“I know,” Pidge agreed, taking a cake and passing the plate to Matt. “We’re so lucky to have him. He even figured out how to make the food goo palatable.”

“He’s an excellent engineer, too,” Sam continued. “I still don’t see why you haven’t asked him for help, Pidge. It would take you a lot less time to finish this project.”

“I already _told_ you, Dad. The paladins all share a mental link so secrets are hard to keep. Hunk gets really nervous over them which would make it even more obvious.” She took a bite of her cake before adding, “Keith wants this to be a surprise for Shiro, so I’m doing it myself.”

Sam smiled. “It was definitely a nice surprise for us.”

Pidge smiled back. Both her dad and her brother had stared at her in shock when they found out that _The Obol_ was on board, but that had quickly evaporated into eager excitement as she explained the project. They’d needed a few minutes when they actually _saw_ the ship, though, and Sam had gotten more than a little misty-eyed.

(Pidge was glad neither of them had been with her and Keith back at the Galra base.)

“You can’t read each other’s minds though, right?” Matt asked, curious. “I know you said that forming Voltron is like being five people at once, but does that happen even outside of Voltron?”

Pidge paused. “Kind of? Well, no, but yes? When we’re in Voltron we can feel everything, but we’re normally all focused on the same thing and it’s not like I lose myself. It’s not like the Human Instrumentality Project or anything.”

They both grinned at the reference. “So? What about outside of Voltron?”

“Outside of Voltron…” She trailed off, biting her lip for a moment. It was hard to explain. “Outside of Voltron it’s more like...echoes. If someone’s feeling something strong enough you can feel them, and some of us are better at hiding them than others. It’s not mind-reading, though you _can_ catch stray thoughts sometimes. It’s mostly feelings. And just like...a presence. Like I know they’re there.”

“A presence?” Sam looked at her sharply. “Do you mean to say that there are four other people in your head?”

“Five… Wait, six,” Pidge corrected quickly. “Allura, Shiro, Lance, Hunk, The Green Lion, and Keith. Green is the ‘loudest’ and Keith is the quietest, because Keith’s not in Voltron enough and my _hypothesis_ is that forming Voltron strengthens the bond, and also he’s like, light-years away right now, and distance seems to count too but then Zarkon could find the Black Lion from galaxies away so maybe distance isn’t _that_ significant of a variable. Anyway, on the ship Shiro and Lance are really good at keeping their feelings to themselves, and Hunk and Allura are pretty bad at it but Hunk is also really good at reading what other people are feeling, too, which I’m kind of bad at because I get confused and I’m never sure which feelings are conjecture and which are projection or actually my own and…”

Matt interjected with a laugh. “It sounds like the IoT but psychic. And with giant robots.”

Pidge shrugged sheepishly. “Yeah. Kind of.”

“Without the control aspect though, I hope?” Sam interjected, and Pidge looked at him in surprise.

“No, no control. It’s more like...a sensor you can’t turn off. Like I can tell where everybody is, but I can’t send a direct message to them or anything.”

Matt perked up. “Really?” Pidge nodded. “What are they all up to, then?”

“Uh… Seriously?” Both Matt and Sam nodded, so Pidge closed her eyes with a sigh. “Okay, but hold on...I’m not very good at this.”

In fact, Pidge was still _really bad_ at it, despite Keith’s suggestion that she learn to use it better. The last time she’d actively tried to use the bond (on someone other than Green) had been to figure out what Lance was feeling, and all she’d gotten was the mental equivalent of a brick wall.

Oddly enough, it didn’t really bother her. Pidge was a woman of science (giant sentient robots notwithstanding); while she was happy to admit that it existed, magic just wasn’t her thing and she doubted it ever would be.

But Sam and Matt were looking at her expectantly, so Pidge let out a breath and tried to focus on melting into the bond. Maybe she could start with the easiest.

“Okay, so, Green’s in her hangar…just being Green,” she started, and was rewarded with snorts from her family. A warm rumble of amusement stirred at the back of her mind and she found herself laughing, too. “Now Green’s laughing at me…” _Help me out, girl_ , she thought, and Green must have heard her because a moment later her mind quieted and she could sense the others loud and clear.

“Oh,” she said softly. “Allura’s on the bridge. I can’t tell what she’s feeling, but I know that’s where she is.”

“She’s always on the bridge, though,” Matt pointed out.

Pidge stuck her tongue out at him, keeping her eyes closed. “We’re on a spaceship, Matt, it’s not like she can go for a walk.”

“Come on, Miss Psychic. What’s Shiro doing?”

“Training,” she replied, automatically. The starfield she recognised as Shiro was exhausted, and she got a mental flash of him huffing and puffing in the training deck. “And he’s...worried about something.”

“That sounds like Takashi, yes,” her dad said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“Lance is…” she trailed off, steeling herself before searching out the flowing energy she recognised as his presence. “Lance is in his room, I think. Frustrated? Yeah. My guess is he’s playing a video game, but that’s just conjecture.”

“What about Hunk?”

“Probably in the kitchen,” she replied. “I’ll check though… Oh. He’s not. He’s in his hangar. I guess he’s working on something? He seems pretty content.”

She opened her eyes to find Matt and Sam staring at her with awed expressions. “What?”

“That was pretty cool, Pidge,” Matt said with a laugh. “Assuming you weren’t just making it up, of course.”

Pidge bristled. “Why would I be making it up?”

Sam intervened before they could aggravate each other more. “I still think you should try to find a way to involve Hunk in this project, Pidge. He would be a great help, and it would give you an opportunity to spend more time with him.”

“Hunk?” Pidge blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. “I spend heaps of time with Hunk, though. We work on most things together.”

“Yes, but Pidge — ”

Matt cut him off, cackling. “Dad, stop trying to hook her up with Hunk. She’s dating the blue one.”

Wait, what?

“The blue one? Oh, Lance? Hmm…” Sam took a sip of water, thoughtful. “Well, I suppose she could do worse. He’s obviously very protective of her, the other day proves that—”

Pidge’s mind caught up to reality, and she threw herself forward. “Wait, wait, wait, WHAT?!”

Sam looked at her in surprise. “Didn’t he tell you? I mentioned what a surprise it was to see how you dress now — especially with how long and beautiful your hair used to be — and he got quite angry at me. He told me you’re perfectly beautiful as you are now.” He took another sip, then nodded. “For what it’s worth, Katie, I approve. Hunk might be more your speed intellectually, but from what I’ve seen and heard, that Lance seems to be a good man, and that’s important.”

Somehow she managed not to spray her water everywhere.

“Okay, okay, hold on a tick.” She sat up straight and took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure before speaking. “One, what? When did that happen? Two, we’re not dating. Three, why the quiznak would either of you think we’re dating?” She looked to the side, then added, “And four — I’m not interested in dating Hunk! He’s like...a brother...friend...kind of. Yeah. No.”

Matt frowned. “Hunk, I know, but you and Lance are always together when you’re not working. Plus, Shiro said he was going to ask you out. He called me to ask what I thought of it, actually.”

That was also news to Pidge. “Again… What?” She paused, annoyance steadily growing. “And why the quiznak would I need your permission anyway?!”

“You don’t, you don’t!” Matt said quickly. “You’re old enough and...I don’t worry about you like that anyway. If he’d asked me I would’ve told him to just ask you. But Shiro said yes.”

“That’s surprising,” Sam said, slowly. “He was always very against fraternisation at the Garrison.”

“Yeah, apparently Lance was worried about messing up the team dynamic if things went south. I don’t know why Shiro wanted to run it by me, but Pidge has liked him for ages so I told him to tell him to go for it.”

“I never said I liked him!”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Oh please. You’re my baby sister. I knew the minute I saw you talk to him.”

Sam laughed, but Pidge looked away bitterly, prompting her dad to ask, “Pidge?”

She sighed and slumped against the seat. “Fine. I liked him.” _Like_ , if she was going to be honest, though the way he’d been acting over Allura lately made it much easier to forget. “A lot. And we were hanging out more, but…” She shrugged. “Look, it’s a long story and I don’t want to talk about it.”

Matt blinked at her in surprise, and the three lapsed into silence. Pidge shoved the rest of her cake in her mouth to stop herself from saying anymore. In all truth it was a very short story, but it wouldn’t frame her teammate in a favourable light and she really, _really_ didn’t need her brother to start up a vendetta against her best friend.

Though Lance probably wasn’t her best friend anymore.

That thought hurt. Shoving it aside, she cast her eyes around for something else to talk about, landing on the flight sticks beside her. “Hey, Dad? Do you have any stories about when Shiro piloted the ship?”

“Hm?”

“You and Matt promised you’d tell me all about your mission, remember?” Pidge curled up sideways in the seat. “I only know what happened _after_ you got there.”

Matt stretched his arms and laughed. “I promised you stories after we got home, and we aren’t home yet!”

Pidge stuck her tongue out while Sam let out a bark of laughter. “We won’t be home together for a while, though, so I think we can share some, son.”

“Well… Shiro figured out how to fart the alphabet,” Matt said with a grin.

“Gross!”

“What?” Matt shrugged, a twinkle in his eye, as Sam started laughing again. “We were stuck in here for a long, _long_ time Pidge. And those rations do weird things to your insides.” He grabbed his stomach and groaned, making Pidge snort. Matt had always had a flair for the dramatic.

Sam steered the conversation in a safer direction. “Matt and Shiro recorded a video for you,” he said with a wink. “You can probably still recover the data.”

“Really?” Pidge asked, curiosity piqued.

At the same time Matt lunged dramatically towards them, yelling: “No!”

Pidge blinked. “Why not? What type of video did you record?” There really wasn’t that much in the ship during the mission… A sudden thought struck and she made a face. “Wait, you weren’t farting the alphabet, were you? Because I’m...not really interested in that.”

“Yep, that’s exactly what we were—”

“They were dancing,” Sam interrupted, lips curved up in a smile. “To a very poppy Japanese song Shiro brought on his tablet. It was very cute.”

“Really?!” She grinned. “The data banks are definitely still working, I just haven’t gone through them yet.”

She’d been putting it off, nervous about the flood of emotions that would probably come with seeing her family and an unscarred Shiro in their mission logs.  But that was definitely good motivation.

“Noooo,” Matt groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Now she’s gonna find it…” Pidge laughed, and he clasped his hands in front of his chest and begged, “Just don’t show it to the other rebels, okay? I’ve got a reputation to maintain!”

“I think they’d be very impressed with your dancing, Matthew. I was.”

The three of them collapsed into laughter again, then Matt brought up an anecdote from their trip past Jupiter and Sam chipped in with some less-than-impressive details that set off another round of laughing.

Pidge wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, lounging around in seats designed to make history, swapping cakes and smiles and stories. By the time they finally lapsed into silence she was yawning, her cheeks aching and her chest comfortably warm.

In their backyard on Earth they had a set of wicker lawn furniture that was cushioned and comfortable (and surprisingly light to lug around, which was handy enough that she still remembered that detail). When she was little, on clear nights they would drag the furniture into the middle of the yard and sprawl out. Pidge would spend hours lying on the cushions, listening to her dad point out the constellations and talk about his trips among the stars, dreaming of the day she was going to be up there.

That was how Pidge had fallen in love with space, really. She’d been toying with the idea of being a famous ballerina or a famous robot inventor (roboticist had been a difficult word back then) — or, ideally, both — but by the age of seven she was certain that she wanted to be a pilot and fly to all those distant worlds and moons. Whatever could make her dad’s eyes shine that brightly and his voice sound like _that_ must be good, she’d reasoned.

After all that had happened, he _still_ spoke of the stars with such passion. He’d been endlessly fascinated by every piece of technology, every advancement, every different culture…

She looked at him. His hair was more grey, his face more lined, but… His smile was just as warm, and his eyes just as bright. The seat he now sat in was supposed to mark the pinnacle of his career but instead had lead to the worst years of his life… Yet he hadn’t hesitated to get back in it. Her dad was dressed in alien clothing and gazing at the forward wall with a faraway look in his eye, but she knew his arms still held the same strength that always used to make her feel safe.

He was leaving tomorrow.

“I remember sitting here,” his voice broke the silence, startling Pidge out of her reverie. Sam sat up straight, his arms spread wide, indicating the front of the ship. “I remember sitting here and staring out of the windscreen at the stars, thinking ‘Look at us. We were never meant to be out here, but _look how far we’ve come_.’”

His words fell heavily in the quiet.

“It was pretty incredible,” Matt added, his voice soft, his gaze fixed on the hangar wall where the windscreen should have been. “We lived in this thing for months, but every time I looked out the windows and saw that starfield I had to pinch myself. _Every_ time.”

Sam ran his palms over the consoles around him fondly. “I know the distance between Earth and Kerberos is probably just a drop in the ocean to you, Katie, and the technology on _The Obol_ is nothing compared to the Lions, or Voltron, or even anything we’ve seen from the other planets we’ve visited, but…”

He looked up at Pidge, a soft smile on his face. “ _The Obol_ took humanity the furthest we’re ever going to get on our own steam. She deserved better than to rot in in pieces, like scrapyard junk.

“When you finish her, make sure Shiro flies her home.”

 

#

 

Pidge was late.

Keith had located their next target on a planet two or so vargas out from Galra Central Command. Finding a time when they were both within travel distance was difficult, but after returning Lotor from his Oriande jaunt the stars finally aligned and they set an evening to meet up and see what they could find.

Sneaking out had proved more difficult than Pidge had anticipated, however, and she was only just now heading into the hangar when she was supposed to be half-way there already.

She checked the time on her gauntlet as she turned into the final hallway. Quiznak. Keith had been expecting a call ten doboshes ago to set the rendezvous coordinates.

Oh, well. He was just going to have to—

“Pidge? Can we talk?”

She swore as she dropped her helmet with a loud clang. Lance stood at the other end of the hallway, hands in his pockets and radiating nervous energy, and her heart leapt to her throat.

Lance hadn’t sought her out in months. Not like this, alone, with no one to act as a buffer, and looking at her with that soft gaze and sweet half-smile, making every single feeling Pidge had been trying to bury suddenly burst out on the surface like a horde of Cupid-eating zombies.

Yet here he was.

It felt like the universe stood still as they gazed at each other, but she _didn’t have time for this_. Not right now. They’d been waiting for this window for weeks; if she missed it, the collector might sell the parts and they’d never find them again.

It was so unfair Pidge wanted to cry.

The dull sound of the helmet rolling towards him was the only sound in the hallway until it came to rest at Lance’s feet. He picked it up and walked towards her, frowning as he held it out. “I thought Shiro said no patrols tonight?”

Pidge took the helmet back silently, biting her lip as she tried to think of a response. Quiznak.

When she didn’t respond Lance shrugged, looking away as he said, “Look, I know you’re really mad at me, and I’m really mad at you too, but, just…” He ran a hand through his hair and Pidge watched the motion, her chest tight. “The other day, we almost died. And when I was running out of air I was… All I was thinking about was how much I regret not patching things up with you.”

He looked at her meaningfully. Pidge forgot how to breathe, but Lance took a deep breath of his own and ploughed on.

“I… I really like you, Pidge. I don’t know if this has all gone to quiznak because we’re not on the same page or whatever but I really, really like you and I know you like me too, I can feel it!” He smiled ruefully. “You’re not very good at hiding it. I just don’t want—”

The beeping of Pidge’s gauntlet cut him off, and Lance looked at her sharply. “Pidge, what’s going on?”

“I…” She fiddled with the gauntlet, huffing in frustration. Why was the reject button so damn small? “Lance, I have to go. I _do_ want to talk to you but I have to go.”

She wanted desperately to stay. Despite the way he’d been acting — fawning over every girl that walked past, being a jealous jerk over Allura and Lotor — she _missed_ him. And maybe she was an idiot, but she’d seen him confess his ‘feelings’ to what felt like a million girls and he hadn’t been like this — shy, unsure, without all the ‘razzle dazzle’. That had to mean something, right?

Green rumbled in amusement at the back of her head, but Pidge ignored it, instead looking up at Lance with a small smile as she finally hit the button that put Keith on hold. “Can we talk later?”

The smile disappeared the second she took in his expression. Lance was leaning away from her, his eyebrows knitted together in consternation as he studied her skeptically. “Pidge. What’s going on? Where are you going?”

Pidge bit her lip. “Uh… I can’t tell you.”

“I can’t believe this,” he said with a huff as he looked away briefly before meeting her gaze. “You’re gonna avoid me again? Right now? After what I just said?”

“I’m not avoiding you, Lance.”

His tone was making something in her blood boil, and Pidge had to fight back a wave of irritation to keep her voice steady.

“Then where the quiznak are you going? And why didn’t you ask one of us to come with you?!”

“I can’t tell you, okay?!” Pidge shot back.

“You can’t tell me what? Why are you keeping secrets?!”  He spread his hands, the nervousness from earlier replaced with a rolling frustration that spilled over and fed Pidge’s own annoyance. “I thought we were past this! No secrets between—”

“—teammates, yeah, I remember!” Pidge cut him off with a shout. “This is different!”

“How is it different?!”

“It just is!” The beeping started again, and she swore as she fumbled to turn it off, every muscle in her body suddenly clumsy and tense. “Oh, _quiznak_! Why do you care so much anyway?!”

“I literally just _said_ I like you!”

“I like you too, but I don’t waste time trying to get in your business!”

“You don’t waste time on me at all!” Lance exploded, his voice echoing off the hallways. “The second I stop chasing you to spend time together I never see you!”

The accusation made her blood boil. Pidge had been spending _every_ spare moment with him before J’aothl, and he knew it. “We only stopped hanging out because you were all over that stupid _Kztaun_ the moment you saw her!”

“That wasn’t it and you know it!”

“No?! Then maybe I’m not chasing after you because all you’ve done is mope and be a jerk over Allura!”

“Why shouldn’t I throw myself at Allura?! She’s a quiznaking _princess_ and she sure as cheese doesn’t lead me on like you do!”

Pidge’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve never led you on, Lance.”

“Sure you haven’t.” He laughed bitterly. “You just sneak off every chance you get and call Keith. That’s who’s calling right now, isn’t it?”

Pidge slammed her finger on the ‘reject’ button again and glared at him.

Lance pointed a finger accusingly. “I go out of my way to ask you to spend time together and it’s ‘Sure Lance, Okay Lance, I’ve been looking forward to it, Lance.’ But you never _once_ asked _me_ to spend time with _you_.”

Pidge froze.

No. That couldn’t be right.

“But, you know, you seem to _really_ like me and everybody else says the same thing,” he continued, bitter hurt dripping from every word, “so I figure that if I stop asking you then you’ll take the initiative and come to me. And did you?”

Had she?

_From where I’m standing, you’re both in the wrong._

_You’re the one who suddenly decided she cared!_

The accusations echoed in her head as she desperately searched her memories of the last few months, trying to think of an instance where she’d sought Lance’s company on her own volition.

There must have been one. At least one. Why wouldn’t she have sought him out? What was she doing with her time instead? She _liked_ him.

Green rumbled sympathetically, flashing her an image of _The Obol_ sitting in the hangar.

Pidge suddenly felt sick.

Her gauntlet started beeping again and she stabbed it numbly, unable to care if the beeping stopped or not.

“Pidge, where _are_ you?! You were supposed to call fifteen doboshes ago!” Keith’s voice echoed in the hallway. “Why haven’t you been picking up?! Pidge? Are you even there?”

 _Cazzo_. Pidge closed her eyes, worrying her lip between her teeth.

The hallway was silent for a beat, then Lance laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I thought so. Forget about that talk. I changed my mind.”

Hot, burning tears threatened to spill over, and she quickly blinked them back. “Lance…”

“Lance? Why is—”

A violent — more accurate — stab and the gauntlet fell quiet again, but Lance was already walking backwards, shaking his head as he shoved his hands back in his pockets.

“You’d better get going, Pidge. You’re late.”

The beeping kept time with his footsteps as he walked away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Matt and Shiro were dancing to was https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFf4AgBNR1E (which is Japan's answer to the Harlem Shake and the Macarena, so Shiro can definitely do it)
> 
> I also now have three outtakes I wanna write from this fic: The Holt Family Fundraiser, Lance & Pidge's Chore-Buddy Time, and Pidge playing the video for the whole team in the lounge. I'll start on 'em once I finish the story.


End file.
